


Unmei

by hemogoblin



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief Developing Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapter 1 picks up in the Seireitei Arc, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemogoblin/pseuds/hemogoblin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time seemed to crawl by, the slow movements seemingly tangible to the black-haired woman – she could reach out, and run her fingers through it–<br/>And there it was.<br/>A quiet “hey” drew her out of her thoughts, eyes growing wide. Her golden gaze slowly moved to settle on a young boy, no more than five years of age, standing not too far off. He had the most striking orange hair, Ayaka noted, shifting in her seat. The boy seemed to be looking at her, rather than the usual looking through her.<br/>---<br/>A shinigami by the name of Tachibana Ayaka meets a peculiar human boy. Ten years later, she meets him again, but in the most unlikely of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue I

The distant scream of a hollow pierced the air as a figure leapt across a gap. Sandalled feet made soundless contact with weathered shingles, and came to a skidding stop at the edge of one building as a hulking creature came into view in the clearing below. The soft click of a blade being unsheathed indicated it of the new presence. Sluggishly, it turned to face the new target.

Pale eyes landed on the soft glow of red coming from behind the mask's vacant sockets, and steel glittered in the warm afternoon sun. The hollow raised one massive paw to take a swipe at the shinigami, only to slowly pass through the air, unscathing – the woman leapt up, rotating to where she could land on its arm and run along it. The beast was confused, a sound of lament escaping as its mask split in two. Before it could react or even make another sound, it disintegrated, and the shinigami was gone; only the slight tinkling of bells was left behind.

A ways away, a woman sighed, dragging a hand through messy black tresses. In the other was the blue-bound handle of a katana, which was quickly flicked, rid of the imaginary sludge that clung to the blade, and resheathed. A drawn out sigh passed chapped lips as she began moving, walking slowly towards the shade of a tree. “So annoying, “ she commented on the late hollow as she slumped against the wide trunk, eyes falling shut as she began to resume her interrupted nap.

Working in town was different. It had weird hours and made the young-looking woman want to cry, as it was just _that_ boring. There were a few parks, some schools, and people. Yeah, plenty of those. And they were so stupid! Who would have thought that throwing a ball into a _broken net_ would be a source of entertainment and so-called _athletic prowess_?

Observing the odd creatures known as the human race was the only real pastime for Ayaka Tachibana of Division Thirteen. At least, the only one that wouldn't put her to immediate sleep. Really, she didn't know how the man she was filling in for, Ry ū nosuke, could handle the tedious shift in Karakura Town. Time seemed to crawl by, the slow movements seemingly tangible to the black-haired woman – she could reach out, and run her fingers through it–

And there it was.

A quiet “hey” drew her out of her thoughts, eyes growing wide. Her golden gaze slowly moved to settle on a young boy, no more than five years of age, standing not too far off. He had the most striking orange hair, Ayaka noted, shifting in her seat. The boy seemed to be looking at her, rather than the usual looking  _through_ her. This caught her slightly off-guard, but she could only assume someone else was nearby.

After a marginal turn to glance out at the vast, very  _empty_ park behind her, Ayaka grew slightly concerned. Another quiet “hey!” and the muffled crunch of the crisp, spring grass drew ochre eyes back to the boy. He'd gotten closer, and stood slightly hunched to peer at her with wide, chocolate eyes. Brow furrowing, she inched away, hand darting to the katana resting at her side. Slowly, she slid it out of sight.

“Hell-o...” she choked on her own words, hardly audible in her surprise. It nearly came out sounding like a question. It wouldn't matter if the kid really wasn't speaking to her, but still – she grew slightly self conscious. Ha! At a young boy, of all things. So much for being a big bad shinigami.

The perplexed look the boy wore changed into that of glee. He grinned ear-to-ear it seemed and his hands, once folded behind his back, came to fist the fabric of his shirt excitedly. “Hi, my name is Ichigo.” he shared boldly, plopping himself down across from the young woman. Expression lightening, Ayaka fought the urge to chuckle.

“Why, hello there, Ichigo.” she returned politely, giving the boy a smile he seemed to be searching for. “My name is Ayaka. You... really shouldn't be talking to strangers, you know.” Concern flashed in her eyes, if only for a moment, but it lessened somewhat as the boy began speaking once more.

“Yeah, I know...” Ichigo trailed off, faltering. Pursing his lips, he continued, shifting nearer to her as he did so. “But we aren't strangers! I've seen you before!” The soul gaped at that, still slightly disbelieving. One, seeing isn't actually  _meeting_ – of course this was a little boy she was dealing with, that may not have occurred to him – and two, where were this kid's parents? The triviality of the situation was awful.

Maybe this was just some screwed up daydream?

As she began to ask how or perhaps when this sighting happened, she was cut off as young Ichigo commented, “You know, Miss Ayaka, you wear a really funny costume.” He picked up a handful of fabric from dark hakama, tugging on it as he giggled, head tilting to one side.

' _ Okay. Not sure if that's a good funny or bad... but I'll take it.' _

Smiling wryly, she allowed him to examine her “costume,” gaze travelling away for a moment. Still, the park was vacant, save for a man who was walking his dog. Honey eyes flicked back to the young boy sitting in the grass, tugging at black fabric. Ayaka adjusted her attire briefly as Ichigo let go, and sighed softly once more, resting back against the tree.

“Miss Ayaka, what do you do? Are you a cosplayer?” Ichigo asked excitedly, eyes growing wide once more.

With a soft laugh, the woman responded, “..a cosplayer? Yeah, sure.” She nodded down at the boy, and began on a tangent. She explained a story of a world plagued with bad guys and the group of knights who leapt to the defence of those left unsuspecting. However, the story went unfinished as a voice called distantly.

_ Ichigo _ .

The shinigami's eyes widened and she peered around the tree, to see a beautiful woman walking down the sidewalk, gaze flickering back and forth. She had two girls in a double-wide stroller in front of her, the large wheels crunching over fallen twigs.

“Hey, I think your mother is here.” she murmured to the boy, watching as he sat up from where he leaned against the tree also, wide oculars still set on the should-be invisible woman. He frowned slightly and pouted as she spoke. “You'd best go see her now.”

As the boy began to protest and grow upset, Ayaka panicked. She placed her hands on the boy's shoulders and smiled warmly at him. “I'll finish my story next time I see you, okay? Just call for me if you see me out here.” She knew, she shouldn't be setting up such obligations for herself. She didn't know how long she'd be stationed in Karakura, or when she would return. It was just a little boy, though – no harm done.

Though in the back of her mind, already, guilt swarmed. The idea of leaving the boy upset made her stomach twist. He nodded, and despite her inner turmoil she scooped up her sword and disappeared behind the tree.

In a moment's breadth, she'd flash-stepped away, and sat in a tree across the way. Distantly, Ayaka watched as the brown-haired woman picked up her son and smiled at him. Warmth spread in the shinigami's chest at the exchange.

Shifting in the tree's cover, she readjusted for a nap once more, and exhaled. The voice of the young boy, excitedly going on as he and his mother resumed down the pavement with the stroller rolling along, reached her ears. A smile tugged her lips, despite the odd sensation of bewilderment still making its impression on the young woman.

 

 


	2. Prologue II

It was well over a full year before the young orange-haired boy spotted the strange woman again.

The six year old was perched atop his father's shoulders, gazing out over the river. It glistened with light, coming in brilliant flashes and crackling sparks. The resounding boom of each pyrotechnic shook the ground beneath their feet and brought a crooked smile to the face of one, very tiny, Ichigo Kurosaki. The young boy kneaded his father's hair in excitement.

Isshin squeezed one of his ankles gently and grinned at his wife. Their son's jovial reaction to the display was priceless and most definitely picture-worthy. Initially, they'd expected fright – much like how it went in the previous year, with the young boy screaming and clinging to his mother. However, they were glad to see how well their boy was taking it.

Far behind the mass of people sat the shinigami by the name of Ayaka. The warm summer air caused her shihakusho to stick to her skin and her hair to her forehead. With an annoyed huff, she pulled it out of the braid it'd been resting in and swept it into a ponytail instead. A hairclip, tucked into her sash, was pulled out and brow-length bangs were pinned back.

As the fireworks display went on, with the elated sounds of the people of Karakura carrying over the air, she smiled. It was a peaceful night, for once; whenever she was in town there was always some sort of disturbance that would require her attention for much longer than necessary.

Gazing out over the crowd, she caught sight of a particularly vibrant mop of hair, whose owner was perched atop the broad shoulders of who could only be the child's father. Somehow, she knew it was the boy she'd met the previous spring, whose intrigue and bright smile for her was ingrained into her memory.

Upon her return to the Soul Society, the woman had told her friend of the tiny human who could see her. The mint-haired member of Division Six had stared in disbelief at the raven woman, before smiling despite the minor concern that bubbled past her lips.

**... **

Emi raised her brows at her long-time friend, tonguing the ring in the centre of her bottom lip thoughtfully. After a moment of silence, which drove the raven woman mad, she narrowed mossy eyes. “So, what? You think Yamamoto is going to let this fly?” she asked sharply, leaning against the table the two sat at. Ayaka narrowed her eyes at her long-time friend. “I mean, you going to the World of the Living to go screw off and have  _ storytime  _ with some orange-headed kid. Gosh, and you said he's five? Good taste in boyfriends, there Aya.”

The other woman sputtered at that, choking on the sip of sake she'd taken only a moment before. After recovering from the coughing fit that brought on, she heaved a breath, looking at Emi through slightly-watery eyes. “You fucking suck, “ she spat, wiping at her mouth with the sleeve of her shihakusho. “I just feel bad since he was so  _ happy _ ... Like, I don't even really understand why, but it... was nice. I don't want to leave him hanging.”

“You're just a people-pleaser, Aya.” Emi shrugged nonchalantly, pouring more sake for her friend and herself both. Tipping her own saucer to her lips, she sighed, “If you're on duty again, go for it, I guess. I've heard Ryūnosuke talking about taking a bit more time off. But just.. be careful, would you?”

**... **

The show went on for another while, before going dim. Sounds still boomed from the waterside festival and it brought a smile to the lips of the visiting shinigami. Humans milled about and conversed and laughed. If there were a few more wearing yukatas and kimonos, Ayaka would have sworn that the sight reflected that of a festival that would go on in her own home.

Warm weather always brought equally as warm pleasantries and celebrations in the sweltering heat of the summer. Cool nights and blazing days translated to relaxation, a break. To most, at least.

The air was disrupted by another shrill sound, one that shook the ground just as much as the fireworks had just an hour prior. Ayaka dropped from her spot, high in a maple tree, and began in the direction of the roaring hollow.

An exultant sound and tiny crunching footsteps caught the young woman's attention, however, as she wove her way out of the crowd of clueless people. A grimace tugged her lips at the soft call of her name. It caused her to go rigid and pause where she was, turning to kneel as the orange-haired boy bolted up to her. Ayaka found herself with tiny arms about her neck.

Gently, she pat the boy's back, glancing around as people resumed on their way, seemingly unknowing of the fact that a little boy was hugging what appeared to be the air.

“Ichigo, “ she murmured, eyes widening slightly. She peeled the little boy from herself and held one of his tiny hands. He beamed up at the gold-eyed woman and asked where she'd been.

_ If only she could explain. _

A smile tugged her lips, but turned sour as another hollow scream pierced the air, distant and followed with the echo of a crash. The crowd paused in their midst and murmured, the live music growing hushed. “I've been saving people.” she explained delicately, putting a cool hand to Ichigo's warm cheek. His nose wrinkled and lips upturned at the chill. He began to ask about her story. “I would love to tell you the rest, but I need to go. I need to help more people and make sure you're safe, so that you can finally hear the end.”

The boy seemed to understand, at least to an extent. She knew this because, as she left him, he waved and began back towards his parents who sat, calling for him, in the grass.

The young woman disappeared into the cover of night.

 

Days passed as Ayaka remained on duty in Karakura Town. Ryūnosuke was an ailing man, and so her stays became more extended as time went on, along with each of the illnesses the elder shinigami would contract. It was days at a time, now, that the young Tachibana would find herself basking in pools of sunlight and waiting for the pestering beep from her cellphone to rouse her from her thoughts.

On one of these many days, a boy wandered next to the bank of the river. A woman sat off to the side on a blanket with two little girls, playing happily with them. The eldest child wandered towards the brush with a stick in-hand and broad ideas in mind, ones about those who protect innocents left unsuspecting.

He waved the sparse stick, pretending as though it were a sword, feigning a scowl and whirling about. Not even a few moments later, he burst into giggles and resumed his running around. He crunched through the grass, burst through scrawny bushes, and ducked behind tree trunks. The boy went completely unaware of the presence looming above him, in the treetops.

The bark crackled and pieces tumbled from what seemed to be the heavens, to the small boy. He paused, startled, and reeled back a few steps, before something  _ rolled _ off a branch and hit the ground. It took Ichigo's all not to scream at the black blur hitting the slightly damp earth. However, the fallen figure straightened up, and soon their face came to light.

“Ayaka!” the orange-haired boy exclaimed, quieting when said person put a finger to her lips.

Ichigo observed as she readjusted and placed her sword off to one side, settling against the base of the tree. Her gaze set on the boy just a short ways away and a warm smile tugged up the corners of peach lips. “Hello, Ichigo. It's been a while.” she offered quietly, raising her brows as the boy rushed forward the short distance to seat himself before her.

And, just like their first meeting, he unraveled into a plethora of questions. Her clothing, where she's been – she made up an elaborate tale, just for him. She recited it happily, keeping him giggling and commenting and asking things, so as to keep his mother from worrying over his whereabouts.

Ichigo ran off when his mother called him for lunch, and he promised his return to the black-haired woman, to which she smiled and laughed, dismissing him with a gentle pat to his back. Upon his return, the young boy settled closely to Ayaka's side, wide brown eyes gazing up at her lighter ones. She asked him questions about his life and listened as he explained grade school and what he did every day.

Lots of pictures (done in coloured wax, apparently, which confused the shinigami greatly), mathematics, and the reading of “children's books."

With time, the boy grew tired, and the older of the two (albeit awkwardly) allowed the child to lean against her side. He tucked himself up against her, completely defenceless, and began to doze as his newfound friend began on another story. It was about lost spirits who longed for families.

As she neared the end of her tale, the boy was long-asleep. She simply kept talking to let Ichigo know she was there (if the fact that he was holding onto her sleeve and  _ drooling on it _ wasn't enough). Ayaka was nearly asleep herself, head lilted back awkwardly as the quietest of snores escaped her, when her senses were piqued.

Sitting up slowly, she reached for the handle of her katana, gazing protectively down at the boy at her side. It could be anything, she reminded herself, grip tightening on the blue tsuka. As the presence rounded past the mouth of the alcove of brush, the soul tensed further.

Ichigo's mother paused, looking down at her boy, before seemingly looking at the shinigami and  _ smiling _ . Disbelief hit the ravenette like bricks once more, as she shifted away slightly, shaking the young boy to rouse him. He sat up and blinked blearily for a moment, making a sound of mild malcontent, before his mother came into sight. Then, he grinned and rose to meet her.

The woman took one more glance at Ayaka before turning with Ichigo's hand in hers, and led him out of the brush. As jovially as ever, the young boy waved goodbye, even in his dazed state.

Confusion was rampant in Ayaka's mind.

 

This was the last thing she'd expected upon her return.

Ryūnosuke sat with folded arms, beside Captain Ukitake, who seemed oddly dire. Usually, the white-haired man wore a smile. Now, though, it was only a look of strain upon his features. The part-time protector of Karakura could only swallow nervously.

“Fifth Seat Tachibana Ayaka, “ the captain addressed her. She nodded in acknowledgement, back rigid where she sat. Her hands, folded in her lap, wrung nervously, nails scraping toned skin. “Have you been fraternising with humans in your visits to the World of the Living?” At the black-haired woman's nod, Ukitake nodded slowly himself, understanding the earlier concerns voiced to him by Yamamoto; the Onmitsukidō got pictures of the Fifth Seat associating with humans, as well as a report of her being taken notice of.

“ These interactions seem to have been hindering your focus on your given duties. You are to, at the  _ first  _ indication of a hollow's presence, eliminate the disturbance as swiftly as possible and protect any humans in harm's way. Any damage dealt in the meantime is something you are accountable for, I hope you are aware?”

Grimly, the woman nodded, gaze finding its way to the floor, before Ukitake resumed speaking, “Good. I expect you understand the reasoning here, but Captain-Commander Yamamoto has ordered for you to make a choice. You have twenty-four hours to make up your mind, but.. you are to take a permanent ban on travel to the World of the Living, or transfer out of Division Thirteen. If you fail to make this decision in the allotted time, it will be made for you.” The captain appeared somewhat distressed over the order, but offered his fifth seat a smile regardless.

Ayaka frowned lightly at the new information. Licking her lips, she nodded slowly and glanced at Ryūnosuke. “I.. apologise, for not holding up my position while you were ill.” she murmured to the large man, who rumbled his acceptance with a curl of a smile. The youngest of the three looked back to Ukitake and smiled solemnly. “I think... I'll take the transfer. I apologise to you, as well... Captain Ukitake.”

The white-haired man seemed anything but hurt, the smile still present on his visage. “I understand, Tachibana.”

Despite how long the young boy waited, his friend never did return.

 


	3. Chapter I

It was her second rush to the coordinated relief station, the innumerable time blood had raced in the ears of Division Six's Ayaka Tachibana as the threat of a friend's life slipping away presented itself before her as an intangible obstacle. It was the whispers in her mind that rendered her sleepless and the nerves that made sustenance difficult to keep down.

 

First, it was the Third and Fifth seats of Kenpachi's division. Skittering down the labyrinth of pathways the Siereitei had to offer left the raven woman breathless and drained as she approached the Division Four barracks.

She was met with the disgruntled appearance of Yumichika, who spat venom about the “brute” who had thrown _fireworks_ in his face and then ran like a coward.

The pair sat outside Ikkaku's room, watching as pink-clad nurses shuffled to and fro across the threshold. They toted along bandages and salves of all types to ease the deep-laid wounds that left the Third Seat immobile. All the while, Ayaka carefully dabbed at the scratches that marred the appearance of the black-haired man before her, insisting to the nurses that she could tend to Yumichika with what little medical training she had.

It was an hour before the words “he's awake” passed the exasperated lips of a nurse, who clutched a clipboard to her chest as she hesitated near the two outside. “You may see Madarame if you so wish.” she uttered, then disappeared. The two made their way into the room to speak with said man, who could muster naught but a mumble at first. Concern clearly etched itself into the expression of the Sixth Division member, and tones of it subtle in that of Ikkaku's best friend; the curl of his lip spoke volumes.

 

Not even an hour later, it was Ayaka's own best friend.

The roaring sound of stone meeting earth had disrupted everyone from what they were doing that afternoon. Reverberations from hefty  zanpaku-tō clashing were bad enough as it was, but then it escalated, then came to an end. Abrupt and unexpected, the flare of spiritual pressure dropped to a murmur and colour no longer danced along one of many footpaths.

Sixth seat of Division Eleven, Emi Yukimura, had been beat. Her gauntlets rumoured smashed and face bloodied, it sent Tachibana flashing toward the infirmary yet again. Nothing more than a blur of black, she slid to a halt outside the vast doors of the place she'd found herself at so frequently, now, and whisked inside. The subject of her attention hobbled out a doorway the same moment she rounded the corner.

Unable to hold herself up steadily, Emi leaned against the corridor's wall and walked along, the soft _scritching_ drag of half-donned clothing against the textured surface filling the air. At the sight of her friend, she grinned lopsidedly, greeting Ayaka languidly, but a moment later was being chastised into backing into her temporary home. “Okay, okay,” she had murmured, forest-toned eyes wide at the force her friend was exuding.

The green-haired female, upon examination, was in terrible condition. A deep cut laid open one shoulder, which was now held with sutures and slathered with medicine. Bruising made patchwork of one of the woman's sides and cracked ribs made the intake of breath ache. Fractures in her fingers were splinted and bound with medical tape and cuts littered her person. She made haste in covering up with her slightly damaged shihakusho, wincing at the licks of pain that emanated from the wounds that thwarted her attempts at smooth movement.

On the table not too far from the white-sheeted bed lay the tough and quite familiar bladed gloves Emi used; a throbbing glow radiated from them as they slowly regenerated the scratches and busted knuckles they bore. They were nowhere near shattered; Ayaka would have to get after the shinigami she'd heard the hyperbole from.

For a moment, a nurse poked her head into the room to give a briefing on Yukimura's status, stating she wasn't clear to leave the infirmary quite yet. With a nod, the two women began to converse.

Ayaka heaved a sigh as she settled down across from her friend on the exam table, the soles of her feet pressed together, arms resting over the sheathed zanpaku-tō in her lap. The other woman gazed at her expectantly after adjusting where she sat, her good hand coming to comb through unruly mint tresses. A number of questions came down upon the woman, all pertaining to the details of her fight.

With a click of her tongue, Emi began to explain. The background was filled with the sound of humming, soft vibrations rattling Konohana no Ikari as it repaired itself. Slowly, the gauntlets pieced themselves back together, and all the while, a vibrant picture was presented to the disgruntled Fourth Seat, brought to light by the oddly relaxed shinigami before her.

“...after I released ol' Konohana, I could finally catch his zanpaku-tō without too much of a negative repercussion.” Ayaka nodded, glancing to splinted digits.  _So that's why the'yre fractured._ The mental images she was getting of their scuffle raised the hairs on the back of her neck, a shudder following as she began unwrapping lithe fingers to use her own Kido for (very meagre) healing, only for a moment.

The older shinigami winced, claiming, “His spiritual pressure is immense – if he received more training, he could match up to a captain, I'd imagine.” Her friend snorted at that, tenne eyes narrowing as she rubbed an anaesthetic salve over Emi's fingers before rewrapping them.

Ayaka simply looked at her hands, resting in her lap once more. It was the same as she'd heard from Ikkaku – the kid was strong, whoever he may have been. Emi's words began to mingle with those of Yumichika. Curious speech regarding a person with annoyingly bright hair (who Yumichika claimed was quite ugly; she agreed with his words in a hum) set Ayaka off-kilter the previous day. Once more, she found herself pondering that appearance.

She turned her gaze upon Emi, “What did your opponent look like? And– did you catch his name?”

Pleasant features furrowed for a moment, brows drawn tight and lips pursed. The green-haired woman shrugged, “I..? Ichirō? Something like that, “ She shook her head sheepishly and glanced over one shoulder, dismissive. “It's hard to remember.”

“Well, your nurse did mention a concussion...” Ayaka commented, heaving a sigh as the other made to continue.

“He was tall, and had nice eyes. They're the colour of red clay after rainfall.” Emi recalled, resting her chin in her palm as colours she saw frequently as a child flooded her mind. Green eyes fluttered shut, long lashes cast against pale cheeks. “He looked angry, though. And his hair– it was insane looking. It was  _really_ bright orange, and this is rich coming from me, but it was kind of annoying. Sunlight hitting that was  _blinding._ ”

As Emi rambled about the boy's appearance, her friend halted in her sluggish movements to get up. “Orange?”

A nod was her response,“Like Chinook, out-there orange. I'm wondering if he dyes it, honestly.”

Eyes narrowing, Ayaka let her sandalled feet hit the floor once more, turning and slipping her zanpaku-tō through her sash securely. “Thanks, Emi. Get some rest – and  _please_ don't leave until you're cleared by Captain Unohana or Lieutenant Kotetsu _._ ” she thanked her friend, pausing to make sure her words stuck with the taller woman, who in turn nodded.

“Okay,  _mother_ . Thank you.”

At the cheeky grin from the Sixth Seat, Ayaka huffed. “Rude.” she murmured as she turned and made her exit. A smile tugged her lips, identical to the one that bubbled with laughter just behind her. A sound of pain could be heard as she passed the threshold.

 

Later in the afternoon, Ayaka found herself upon a mob of shinigami running through the system of pathways. The rough group of men bellowed and howled, waving their katanas above sweaty heads as they ran. Musk and the sharp tang of gunpowder stung the nostrils of the female as she perched on the top of a partition, taking in the scene.

Half of them lay on the ground behind the crowd, and others blindly swung as they ran, beads of perspiration running into their already scrunched eyes. The onlooker hopped to the next partition's roof, and then the next, following the way the perpetual line seemed to snake through the paths. Ahead, muffled yelling filled the air.

The raven-haired woman rushed forward, hand resting on her katana's pommel as she neared the source of the yelling. The sight she came upon caused uneasiness to rise within her, clouding her mind and muddling any semblance of thought.

A head of orange hair bobbed and wove amok the mess of black- and brown-haired shinigami that pursued the owner aggressively. As he fought off one, he swung the greatsword he held in one hand and rushed him, effectively throwing him off without spilling any blood. He continued yelling and swearing, seemingly to his friend, who ran a ways ahead of him, decking men in his wake.

Ayaka blinked at the appearance of the faux-shinigami. He was much different than what came to mind at the initial description of this  _ Ichi _ \- whoever, but the initial malice she'd felt against him wavered. The slightest twinge of unease ate at the back of her mind as she darted forward as the last of the mob was cleared. Groaning men lay like fallen ants upon the ground, some heaped like corpses – and some actually fit that description.

As another group approached fast from ahead, the Fourth Seat sprinted toward the intersection of pathways, which the boy and his friend were, too, headed for. She would simply intercept them and take it from there, a simple plan. Her fingers tugged her Mizushita partly from its sheath, anxious already. What she didn't expect was to suddenly collide with something something akin to a wall.

_ She hadn't veered off to one side, right? _

Bracing herself a little too late, she heard an angry tone of voice coming from this..  _ not  _ wall. No, it was a person, and they were pleasantly warm. She took a step back to examine them and...  _ oh, boy _ .

“Great, another one! What the hell is your guys' problems? Yer all just running around and-- hey, why are you just staring at me like that?” Ichigo spoke bitterly, waving a hand. His rhetorical-seeming question still sounded demanding as he hunched slightly; his answer was obvious.

A brown gaze was directed down at Ayaka from below furrowed brows. He grew confused, however, at the way the woman was staring. The teen before her looked right back, already angry brows tightening further as he examined the woman. He moved a hand in front of her face, going, “hey!”

She was yanked from her thoughts at the sickeningly familiar syllable, eyes drawn to her right as the rumble of innumerable footsteps drew nearer still. Rather than producing something coherent, she shrieked and gripped the sleeve of his kimono before taking of at a sprint, away from the entanglement of men closing in.

Left standing and gaping alongside Hanataro, who had shrunk down as the chaos only grew, Ganju shouted and hefted the tiny member of Division Four over his shoulder. Quickly, he started after them, calling for them to wait up as Hanataro all but screeched, being jostled along. He had an unfortunately clear view of the men tailing them.

“Hey! Where are we going!” Ichigo wheezed, eyes wide as the woman who was forcefully pulling him by an arm now rounded a corner. Golden eyes were set on the doors of a storehouse not too far off, and her sandals slid on gritty tile as she fumbled to get the door open. Ganju all but toppled Ichigo over in his rush, screaming at him to move. At their squabbling, Ayaka smacked them with her zanpaku-tō sheath, ushering them inside just as the men thundered around the corner in hunt of the uncanny group. Out of breath, the four waited in silence for the mass to go by.

Hanataro, breathing heavily where he stood, looked at the newly-joined shinigami, and she at him. Ayaka had seen him before, haggling along behind a relief unit headed to aid shinigami fallen outside of the Seireitei. They eyed one another cautiously; this must have been the one officer supposedly compromised by the ryoka, the female figured.

Once certain their pursuers were far enough away, Ichigo let out an exasperated sigh and beheld the raven-headed woman. “So, why exactly did you  _ blindside _ me? I could have cut you!” He waved his zanpaku-tō for emphasis, narrowly missing Ganju who squawked at the cleaver's proximity to his face. The small shinigami between them was the only thing keeping the Shiba from lunging at the orange-haired male.

“Well, why the hell are you waving it around in shikai, like that?” she retorted, arms folding over her chest stubbornly. Taking a breath, she shook her head, holding up a hand to silence the boy before he began on what she could only assume to be an upset harangue. “I was running to cut you guys off, and that didn't go too well...” Ayaka trailed off for a moment, rubbing her temples solemnly. “You fought my friend today and I wanted to get a good look of you myself, and.. here we are.”

The teenager had a blank look on his face, scratching his cheek. “Which one?” he asked albeit awkwardly. Ganju's eyes widened and he sputtered, going on about “some feathery asshole.” Ichigo cast a glance his way.

Tugging the collar of her uniform, Ayaka looked at her feet, wiggling her toes. “Uh. Two of 'em?” At the look of confusion from the orange-haired ryoka, she clarified, “One's bald and the other has green hair.”

“What about feathers?!” Ganju bellowed, growing all the more furious over the thought of the man who'd insulted him countless times throughout their conflict. Ayaka blinked at the sudden outburst, concern wrinkling her brow. Ichigo leaned in and whispered to her, to which she nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

_ Don't mind him. _

Clearing his throat, Ichigo recalled the faces of the friends the newcomer spoke of. “Yeah, I did. But the second one, ehh, what's her name?” He rubbed his neck as he pondered it for a moment, then gave up. “She let me go, said she didn't want to get in my way or something.” An incredulous look crossed the features of the woman across from him and he couldn't help but worry for a moment.

The intense Emi Yukimura had let someone off? Was that why she seemed so lax? Kenpachi was going to skin her if he found that out, she was almost sure of it. The even more overbearing captain's will and drive to fight was more than a little fantastic. Worry thrummed to life in the back of her mind yet again, hands wringing behind her back.

“Well, ” she breathed, lips twisting in an awkward struggle for words. Ayaka's gaze wandered back to the face of the orange-haired boy. Another twinge –  _ why _ ? “Anyway, um.. What's your name?”

“Kurosaki Ichigo. This is Ganju. And yours?” The teen answered the question in stride, gesturing to his friend as well. He seemed unafraid to share his name with whomever asked of it. The hairs on the back of Ayaka's neck bristled and caramel-coloured eyes opened wide at the realisation that hit. Anxiously, she swallowed.

“Tachibana Ayaka, of Division Six.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the real fun begins. :')
> 
> Any feedback on Ayaka or how I'm writing would be wonderful, and thank you so much for reading thus far!!


	4. Chapter II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been staring me in the face all day, so I figured why not post it as-is. Forgive me for any errors and the funny place it leaves off at. :') I appreciate the kudos I've received thus far!!

 “Ayaka?” The teen repeated, tone bland. Ichigo regarded the woman coldly for a moment, before settling on a thought. It raked at his subconscious, but he couldn't pinpoint it. His thoughts rested at a tumultuous murmur.

Said shinigami felt an imaginary flush burst over her cheeks at the utterance. It was so bizarre, expecting the voice of a small child and receiving that of a man. It was what she remembered, in her defence; just that soft voice and smile, both of which seemed to be gone now.

Aurulent eyes met chocolate ones for a moment. What tumbled past the lips of Ichigo, paired with a half-hearted shrug, stung much more than it should have. “Well, nice to meet you, I.. guess? If running into me is even considered 'meeting.'”

He was still bitter over that?

For a moment, Ayaka stumbled over her words. She forced a dry smile and nodded at the pleasantry. It was difficult to ignore how emotion bubbled and swelled in her subconscious, intermingling with pre-existing worries to make her tongue feel like cotton. Her resolve was recovered in an instant as she remembered where she stood, quickly averting her eyes from the well-grown boy she once knew. “Sorry about that, “ she apologised curtly, unable to brush off the odd look the boy's companion gave her as she and the rest settled on the dusty floor.

Three pairs of eyes then directed themselves to the slightly-tinier shinigami who was between Ichigo and Ganju. His lip curled in a nervous smile and he and bowed his head, “I'm Yamada Hanatarō.”

Immediately, the two other males deadpanned, “That's hard to remember.”

The stupid looks they both wore made Hanatarō reel back slightly, as if he'd been burned. He seemed alarmed, tired eyes widening slightly. “R-really? Everyone tells me it's an easy name to remember!” he stated, hands squeezing in his lap.

“Oh yeah? I get 'Yamada Taro' or 'Yamada Hanako,' but 'Hanatarō' is so hard to remember, hard.” Ichigo claimed, beginning to fan himself with one hand for dramatic effect. Ayaka snorted at that, brow knitting at how such a simple name was difficult to remember. The curl of her lip faltered as she righted her posture a moment later; the orange-haired teen sent a stink-eye her way.

Hanatarō sighed, worrying to himself at the criticism of his name, “Gosh...” He wondered if other members of Division Four had been lying to make him feel better.

Ganju then piped up, glaring suspiciously at the poor boy. His wrathful attitude toward shinigami began to rear its head again, “Besides, aren't you our enemy?” He turned his dark-eyed gaze on Ayaka next. She pressed her back up to the crate she leaned against, getting out a hoarse 'cool it, buddy!' Ganju raised a brow at that, continuing with an accusing tone, “Why are you so laid back and introducing yourselves?”

There was no real answer to that, and as Hanatarō nervously shifted where he sat, he murmured, “Well, now that you've mentioned it...” He began to reconsider his choices of the day, starting with breakfast and going up to the moment he made his mistake. He _really_ shouldn't have fallen behind in that relief group.

The error in tagging along with the two ryoka also began to settle in for Ayaka who folded one arm over her chest and rubbed her chin contemplatively with the other, gaze cast down. ' _Curiosity really does kill the cat.'_ she mused, eyes falling shut. She could have just left the ryoka-viewing at a good look and then departed, but _no_ , that isn't enough when you feel like you _know one of them_.

Ichigo and Ganju began to butt heads again in the meantime, the former pointing and waving a finger over at Hanatarō. “Why did we bring this guy with us?” he whispered loudly. The words were clear to the should-be enemies sitting adjacent to them.

“Couldn't help it, he was nearby so I accidentally carried him with us!”

Brown eyes rolled as Ichigo threw his arms up. “Accidentally?! What do you mean, exactly?” he questioned. “Do you just pick up whatever is lying on the ground?”

It was like the subject of their attention totally _wasn't_ sitting so near to them.

Carefully, Ayaka scooted closer to a very tense Hanatarō, pinching the bridge of her nose. “The way he's talking is making you sound like trash, “ she commented quietly, sinking down a little. He hummed and nodded wistfully, and the two looked on as the intruders quite thoroughly got in each others' faces on the matter.

“Shut up! You didn't notice him, yourself, until just now! Plus, she –“ Cue meaty finger jabbed in Ayaka's direction, “was brought along by who I believe is _you_ , kid!”

“They seem quite passionate.” Hanatarō murmured after a moment, bleak azure eyes set on the arguing pair.

Ichigo snorted incredulously, sounding harsh. “ _Me_? If you don't recall, _she_ was the one who dragged _me_ over here, and you followed! What if she was taking us to one of their captains or–“ A sandal, hastily removed, connected with the side of Ichigo's head.

He turned a glare on the culprit, teeming to yell again. The intake of breath he took caused him to begin coughing; all of their moving around had stirred up evidence of the building's lack of use. Meanwhile, Ayaka sat with her knees up to her chest, zanpaku-tō unsheathed and pointed their way. A navy scabbard lay on the floor next to her.

“Will you two shut up? We're all dead if someone comes in here!”

Silence filled the room for a moment, once the teenager quit his coughing and wiped his eyes. He glanced around, as if he could see what was beyond wood-panelled walls, and whispered, “Are we alright?”

The accompanying mutter of 'it seems so' a moment after allowed for all in the room, who'd begun holding their breath, to relax somewhat.

After the mild dispute, the atmosphere simmered down. They dusted off hakama and righted clothing mussed in the scuffle outside. Ayaka returned her sandal to her foot and Ichigo stood rubbing his cheek, while Ganju still studied the two short officers as they exchanged odd looks from where they remained on the floor.

“But still, if it's true what that bald guy said, “ Kurosaki sighed, running a hand through the back of his messy hair, “and even if Rukia is in that white tower, the problem is which road to take to get there.”

Ganju, with his hands on his hips, frowned for a moment, before a somewhat elated look crossed his visage. “Oh, that's right. I have a map” he stated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Ayaka wondered for a moment how he'd actually gotten his hands on one as he went on, unrolling the crumpled parchment. He rambled, getting interrupted by Ichigo about the authenticity of the map and something about 'peace' from Ganju.

Off to the side, Hanatarō raised his voice, looking up at the two. Promptly, he was shot down. As Ganju resumed his explaining, going on about the two taking leave and their 'uselessness,' another sandal was thrown. This time, at the black-haired man's face.

The Shiba fumed, glaring at Ayaka with a foot-shaped mark on his person. She again sat wiggling her white-clad toes, giving him a malicious look. The officer lifted a dainty hand and gestured to Hanatarō, having noticed the way the shinigami's face lit up at the name earlier mentioned. “Let him speak.”

Carefully, Hanatarō did just that, “Rukia... Are you talking about Kuchiki Rukia?”

Ichigo noticeably stiffened at that, looking over at the meek male who breathed out slowly before meeting earthy eyes. He began to explain his knowing her as well as the location of her holding cell in the Senzaikyū, so very far away. The odd group then left the storage building on the note of being led there.

 

“You know, I never would have thought of using the sewer system.” Ganju commented as he walked behind Hanatarō.

The short shinigami hummed and nodded, eyes set ahead as he walked along the path that flanked the massive current. “Yes, this sewer system runs underground throughout the Seireitei, so we can go anywhere without running into obstacles.”

Filthy water ran along the canal and gave the air an odd, musty smell. It was heady and thick and had a very grotesque quality in comparison to the atmosphere above ground. However, the convenience of _not_ running into the (even filthier) shinigami men who were intent on very literally ripping the intruders to shreds was enough to make it bearable.

Treading lightly behind Ganju, Ayaka had her hands folded behind her head, wide eyes taking in the dim scenery of the underground. The bulbs overhead hardly counted as lights, the dull glow they gave off just barely getting the group by. Alcoves in the walls were deep shadows, and vague reflections danced along the deep, swishing flow of waste. The female of the group found patterns among the greenish water, humming softly as mild conversation went on about the system of paths.

As Ganju rambled something about the Fourth Division, his gaze slid back to the still-lingering Ayaka for a moment. “Which company do you belong to, woman?” he asked of her, cutting off Hanatarō as he began to meekly explain his mastery of the sewers. “Relief and aid like Hana, here? You aren't wearing that funny lookin' pouch.”

Brows raising to meet her bangs, the unknowing smile Ayaka wore faded. “Ah, no.. I belong to the Sixth. We don't really have an assigned purpose, though we do seem to handle a lot of arrests.” she explained herself and her division briefly, gaze flicking to the gaping, seemingly endless, expanse before them. “I.. used to belong to the Thirteenth, which deals with the protection of Karakura Town.”

“Geez, I didn't ask for your life story there!” Ganju waved a hand, movements exaggerated for a moment as he continued on. Ayaka narrowed her eyes and swallowed a bitter response. “Why're you even with us, still? Shouldn't you scamper on back to your Sixth Company or something?”

Ahead of him, Ichigo blanked. He glanced back at the woman lingering at the rear of their group, something spurring his emotions into a swirl of unease. Eyes rolling, he reacted to Ganju's words with an exasperated sound at the odd terms he used, ' _Scamper, really?'_

“I.. I don't know! I wanted to help out? I kind of tackled Ichi– er, Kurosaki back there.” Ayaka defended herself meagrely, tripping over her speech quite noticeably. The response she got was a grunt, and that was enough for the woman, for her face lit up out of embarrassment as attention returned to the path ahead. She really had no clue why she was still around.

_Oh, wait, because–_

With the conversation quite derailed at that point and atmosphere growing tense again, Hanatarō hummed, “Why'd... why'd you leave Thirteen? I hear Captain Ukitake is very kind. Were-were you promoted?”

The woman shook her head at that, as if the three before her could see the motion. Raising her arms over her head in a stretch, she sighed. “No, I was more demoted than anything. I got caught, well.. not doing my job. I got scolded for fraternising with humans, which is apparently a huge _don't_ when you're me. It was a mandatory transfer, ”

“So you're a shit worker, eh?” Ganju jabbed at the ravenette, receiving a literal one from the person behind him. Her scabbard wedged itself between his ribs for a moment in a rough strike and he yelped, turning about to face her with furrowed brows. Ichigo grabbed him by a clump of hair before he could leap at Ayaka.

“Will you quit?” he scolded the grown man, eyes narrowed and bearing flames at the both of them before he whirled around to resume his pace, though notably more brisk than before. He moved past Hanatarō, who appeared absolutely petrified for a moment, before he hurried to catch up. Ganju watched for a moment after the teen before haggling along, and Ayaka, clearly a little shocked by Ichigo's snap, remained still.

Though he noticed her hanging back, Ganju didn't mention it. He only kept moving forward, listening as Ichigo spoke to Hanatarō, seeming to ask something. Steadily, their voices grew more distant until it was only a faint echo. Where she stood, Ayaka sighed.

“Oh boy, ” she muttered, ochre eyes cast upon the steady flow of water. She felt just as bad as the clouded surface appeared. “I run into him and then piss him off. What a hello, after ten years..”

 

The following day, Ayaka sat beside her recovering friend, rubbing tired eyes and kicking her bare feet just above the Division Eleven lawn. Steaming cups of tea sat between her and Emi, who leaned against a thin pillar of the breezeway. Carefully, she topped off the black and grey teacups, mindful of newly unbound fingers.

Her Konohana no Ikari lay off to one side, its rich brown hilt blending against dark wood, and a thin yukata was draped over one of the injured woman's shoulders, held together with a blue sash at her hip. Bandages covered her chest and light bruising decorated her bare side.

The aromatic scent of black tea met the senses of Tachibana as she paused to pick up her cup and take a long sip. Her gaze followed dancing wafts of steam as the midday sun caught them, the thin strands dissipating into the air. Bags rested heavily beneath her eyes and her dark hair stuck up in all directions from the tiny ponytail it was held in.

“So what exactly happened? You look thrashed, and Abarai got _arrested_?”

Ayaka had been “promoted” to second in command of the Sixth Division at the previous evening's arrest of their very own lieutenant. The shock of Kuchiki so easily having him carried off left many dumbfounded, though the punishment _was_ according. He failed, and that was shameful to both Division Six and himself.

Pairing that occurrence with the sudden bout of responsibility dumped upon her shoulders (which wasn't just toting papers all around the Soul Society anymore) rendered Ayaka sleepless the night prior. She then spent most of her morning carrying reports of the recent conflict to the Captains, and the file regarding Abarai's arrest to the Central 46 compound.

“I've been on my feet all day, tailing Kuchiki.” she snorted. “Renji... He fought Ichi– mm, the _ryoka_ , I mean. He looked dead when we found him out toward the Senzaikyū yesterday evening.” the gold-eyed woman explained. She rested her weight back on one arm, lifting and looking at her toes contemplatively.

The scene flooded her mind once more. The rubble and jagged ridges of stone that stuck up like walls and the unforgettable, deep furrow that put a divide through the clearing. The intoxicating metallic tang that hung in the air still danced on her tongue, as well as the swear that had escaped her upon arriving to the site.

“The area around Division One barracks and the meeting rooms was a fuckin' wreck. It's safe to say it _was_ even worse where you got shoved through that wall.” she hummed over a steaming cup, hearing Emi click her tongue at that. Something that beat being shoved through three layers of brickwork with one movement astounded the woman, whose gaze narrowed with the slight upturn of her lip.

“That kid just keeps getting stronger.” she commented,

“So far, Abarai is still unconscious and under close watch in our barracks, and there are no signs of Kuchiki giving any slack on whatever punishment he has in mind.” The mint-headed woman sighed and gave her agreement there – the Sixth Division captain was definitely a man of the law. In Emi's eyes he was too much of a hardass to drop anything without a colossal reason as to why he _shouldn't_ subject whomever at hand to the seven levels of hell.

A soft 'tch' from Emi had Ayaka looking up to meet her again, brow raised.

“Nothing, I'm just... thinking. This whole _ryoka_ thing has been.. a lot.” the Eleventh Division member paused, sighing out her nose. “News travels pretty slowly around here, so I can't help but wonder if things have progressed.”

Quietly, Ayaka regarded her friend. The previous day's interactions with the ryoka echoed in her mind.

_“Yeah, I did. But the second one, ehh, what's her name?” He rubbed his neck as he pondered it for a moment, then gave up. “She let me go, said she didn't want to get in my way or something.”_

“Why'd you let him go?”

“Wh–” Green eyes grew as wide as saucers for a moment. Emi coughed, trying to get over the tea that suddenly made itself at home in her lungs. She clutched tightly at the fabric of her yukata. “ _What_?”

The other woman tilted her head, gazing sidelong at her friend as she recovered. “The kid, why'd you let him go?” she questioned, tone wavering slightly. She almost didn't want to ask why, but it lingered in her mind.

“You actually found him?” At Ayaka's nod, Emi chuckled. An interlude, consisting of the woman simply watching the sparse steam flutter from her cup, created a silence. “He told me about how he owes the girl up for execution, Kuchiki Rukia. Told me all about how she saved his life, and he has yet to return the favour. I can get behind that sort of honour system, so I let him go.”


	5. Chapter III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a lot of frustration, scrapped work, and coffee spilt on my keyboard I'm finally back with an update! :') I hope you all enjoy it. And, please, forgive any errors you may come upon, I'm editing to the best of my ability. vuv

Clattering footsteps and the gruff shouts of innumerable shinigami, as they darted left and right in the dark, filled the air. Members of the rowdy Eleventh company being hoisted about by frazzled healers crossed paths with patrol and recovery groups.

Ayaka twisted and turned to get past the unusual number of presences in the area – it was one intersection, a fairly sized plaza of sorts that hosted pathways of all kinds branching from it. She held a hefty stack of papers against her side, free hand resting on the mazarine hilt of her zanpaku-tō. Short, inky locks blew in the cool early morning air, tickling against her neck and sticking up in an unruly fashion.

Bags sat heavily beneath her eyes, still, alongside the new weight upon her shoulders. Being the new technical second in command of Division Six still frayed her nerves and rendered the woman restless and on her feet for the remainder of the following day and night. Working _for_ Byakuya was bad enough, but doing so _right beneath him_ caused a small snap somewhere in her mind.

It was the pressure _expected_ that caused the new distress, rather than the de facto. Byakuya hadn't pushed her all that much, just gave her orders to deliver this and that and fill out this, and to check in on his fallen lieutenant to assure he hadn't tried anything.

Moving past a pair of shinigami carrying a stretcher towards Division Four, she began up a small fleet of steps to get to the Tenth compound. A portion of the heap in her arms was to go to Tōshirō, and the other to Sajin.

In the midst of her brisk walk, now in the middle of a very long, very boring stretch, she was disrupted. Her best friend was the culprit, the woman having all but dropped down upon her. She landed a scant few inches before her in a gush of wind. The sudden movement caused the papers in Ayaka's arms to flutter as she reeled back and shrieked.

“Emi!” she scolded with wide eyes, gaze fixing on the mint-haired shinigami as she smiled warmly to her. Casually, she patted her on the top of her messy-haired head.

“Hello, gorgeous.” the woman held at hand hummed, canines flashing for a moment. “Sorry to bug you in the midst of your...” She paused to observe as Ayaka grumbled and crouched to retrieve fallen pages, tucking them neatly back into their stack, “...paper-toting, but I think I may have something you'll like back at the barracks.”

The look Emi wore sparked mild suspicion in the shorter of the two. Slowly, Ayaka righted herself, eyes narrowing somewhat, before finally she breathed, “I need to get this done or Kuchiki will roast me, just with his damned stare. Can it wait, mm...” A pause, “an hour?”

Forest coloured eyes rolled. “Oh, come _on_ , “ Emi emitted a gruff sigh, glancing over her shoulder as if the answer lay scrawled upon the wall at her flank. “Where are you going to? I'll take part of this.” She reached out as though to snag half of the paperwork, only to have her friend take a sharp step back.

“Ten and Seven, “ was Ayaka's curt answer. Contemplatively, gold eyes flicked between the stack in her arms and Emi. A brief silence settled; the other began to feel a little awkward before an answer finally came from her friend, in the form of half of the papers being shoved into her arms. A grin stretched over her features.

“I'll meet you back here in half an hour, and then we can head over to Eleven, “ Emi said decidedly, nodding to herself as she began to walk in the indicated direction. Easily, she hopped up onto the roof of one partition. “It's an accomplice of your little ryoka friend.” With that statement, she leapt off, form disappearing into the midnight-hued morning.

Ayaka remained for a moment, confound.

 

A half hour later, with the sky slowly being permeated with the light of sunrise, she found herself near to her starting point. Her arms lay folded over her chest as she awaited the arrival of the Eleventh Divisioner.

Minutes dragged past and Ayaka began to think her friend may have gotten sidetracked – it wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Getting too caught up or distracted often left the woman talking boisterously to another shinigami about recent ongoings or contemplating some tangled idea. Both were a little too typical of her, though no one actually said much on it because it was just that; her.

Kenpachi didn't mind it much since the woman was a brutal fighter; she and her gauntlets could rip apart just about anything and anyone given the right situation. The damage done to both man and material brought mirth to most of the Eleventh, even with the absence of a proper “sword” in her Konohana no Ikari's shikai. Hand-to-hand combat still sated their need to brawl, easily.

However, the rest of the Seireitei wasn't quite as welcoming to the chaos.

Ayaka was roused from her thoughts by Emi's arrival, smiling warmly to her friend as she approached from ahead. “Ready?” she questioned, though the answer was obvious. The other woman walked to meet her and in turn the mint-headed shinigami pivoted to be at her side. Turning onto a different pathway and beginning the route back to her barracks, Emi hummed.

“How do you know she's Ichigo's friend?” Her friend began to speak, obvious hesitance bringing a smile to Emi's pierced lip. A number of other questions raged at the tip of her tongue, but Ayaka kept them down. One step at a time, she figured. A gilded gaze shifted to her peripheral to observe as Emi pursed her lips.

“She's been talking about him. Says she _knows_ he's alive and all this.” Emi explained, head tilting to one side as her own oculars wandered up to the steadily-lightening skyline then back to the dark, bluish tile that spanned for miles. “They have a Quincy friend and I guess he's been apprehended.”

“Mm, so that was the outburst in the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, with Kurotsuchi, I guess.” Emi cringed. “That guy's a fucking loon.”

Rolling her eyes, Ayaka snorted, “You're telling _me_? I've listened to Kohaku go on and _on_ about how he can't even rest in their barracks without worrying about being converted into a live bomb.”

Emi hummed, “I'll give you that... I would take a transfer if I were as restless as him.” She chuckled to cover her unease, stuffing her hands into her pockets as they walked. They rounded another corner and were soon headed for the Eleventh compound's gate. The sight they were met with, however, was perplexing.

Kenpachi strode out from the double-wide doors of the barracks, behind him Ikkaku and Yumichika. The broad man was wrapped from hip to chest in bandages and reeked of healing salve, even from a relatively safe distance away. Tiny hands clung to one shoulder, above which rested a head of pink hair.

“Minty! You're back!” Yachiru exclaimed from her vantage, beaming down at the newly arrived women. Her rosy gaze then shifted to the black-haired shinigami not too far off. “With Aya, too!” Emi smiled and hummed at her vice-captain and, behind her, Ayaka waved.

“So, what's going on?” Emi questioned with raised brows, arms folding over her chest as she took a step forward. She met Kenpachi's eyes for a moment, giving a firm nod, before looking at the third and fifth seats nearby. Yumichika seemed transfixed with something on Kenpachi's back, grumbling to himself about beauty, and Ikkaku came to rest his weight on his zanpaku-tō rather lazily.

“We're helping Orihime to find Ichigo, “ Ikkaku answered, gesturing to Kenpachi's seemingly unoccupied shoulder. A head of sienna hair popped up; Emi blinked in surprise. The girl smiled meekly at the pair not too far off, greeting them with unexpected sunniness.

Ayaka all but choked at the mention of Ichigo. She had to take a moment to leer at a particularly dusty tile while muffling her coughing fit into her fist, before returning her attention to the small posse before them.

“You're comin' along, Yukimura.” Kenpachi grunted, gaze shifting to one side as Yachiru began to fidget gleefully at 'Minty' joining their party. Just then, a hell butterfly descended with the accompanying serene sound. Ayaka caught it, brow knitting.

At the expectant look from everyone, she sighed out her nose. “I would tag along for this, er... exciting endeavour, but something's come up with prisoners.” she informed reluctantly, a sigh forcing its way past pale lips. She lifted her hand and observed for a moment as the hell butterfly again took off, wings fluttering. “Keep me updated, if you can...?” At the request, Emi nodded; in an instant, her friend was gone, a faint blur remaining for a moment.

 

 

The following day was hectic.

Hinamori had gone missing from her cell sometime the previous evening. Then it was Izuru, with the gate simply left unlocked and ajar. Not even an hour following the report of their absence, the Sixth Division lieutenant went missing as well, cell gate busted and guard unconscious.

Tōshirō fought with Gin from what was circulating, Hinamori was a mess and from the nearly-tangible waves of reiatsu tickling the fourth seat's senses, Kenpachi was fighting with someone again. All of this, on top of the impending execution – now bumped up to _noon_ for some ungodly reason – and the murder mystery of Sōsuke Aizen.

All-in-all, it was just an excess of finger-pointing and insults, frequent messages brought by hell butterfly, and a crock of agitated shinigami. What could _possibly_ go wrong?

Ayaka sat hunched over a stack of paperwork, exasperation causing her hands to shake as she filled out innumerable lines of text. A report (that apparently _had_ to be five pages to the T) was in the works before her in a variety of crumpled papers and scribbled notes, blotches of ink and petty frustration. A now very empty teapot sat on the edge of the vast oak desk, alongside a variety of sweeteners and empty, crumb-riddled plates.

Footsteps rapidly drew nearer to her temporary workspace, the force actually rattling the ceramic on the desktop. A muffled utterance of her name caused her head to rise slowly, hand still moving her pen against paper. “Rikichi?” she asked, soon receiving an answer as the shoji slammed open – which she totally _didn't_ startle at – and the form of said shinigami skittered through. A little discomposed, she asked, “What's going on?”

Immediately, the boy began on a tangent about the group sent out earlier to apprehend Renji. As she listened, Ayaka nodded slowly, lips pressed thin as she examined the large line of ink that lay stark against her page, smeared over now blurred words. With contempt rising like bile in her throat, she slammed down her pen in a short exhale, “Rikichi, _please_ get to the point.”

The raven blinked, his brow creasing as sheepishness settled in. “My apologies, Tachibana. Um.. Lieutenant Abarai came through and cut down most of our group. I-I don't know what's gotten into him, but–“

“Have you called for a relief team yet?” Ayaka interrupted, thin brows raised as she observed the clearly-shaken young man. His failure to find words was answer enough. She rose from her spot, taking a final mournful glance at her now-ruined paper, and started for the door. “Okay, so we'll start with that.”

The hand that rested on his shoulder caught Rikichi slightly off guard, but he followed along as the fourth seat led him out of the room, sliding the door shut, before resuming down the hall. After a number of questions and a request for relief, the two were headed to the place at which the group encountered Renji.

For a moment, Ayaka stood and observed the unseated officers, most of which lay splayed on the ground or propped against the surrounding walls. They murmured amongst themselves and looked over their broken zanpaku-tō in seeming woe. She made a mental note to speak with the head of Weapon Reconstruction to have the shattered asauchi repaired; he would be _thrilled_.

“So, what happened, exactly?” Ayaka asked, her gaze shifting up as the relief team approached. The blond at its front nodded to her securely before getting to work, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.

Rikichi explained briefly what had gone on, his speech growing erratic again just as it had in the barracks. Shushing him with a pat to the top of his head, even despite her considerable shortness, Ayaka hummed and listened as another recited his interpretation. A healer dabbed at the trickle of blood down the shinigami's forehead; the higher-up sighed, as it came out similar to the initial report.

After a moment, the fourth seat nodded, then glanced to a higher level, where the pillars began to explode and a tremendous force rolled down from it. The gales that howled overhead carried with it debris and the reiatsu of both the captain and lieutenant of Division Six.

Gold eyes met slate grey and Rikichi suggested heading in that direction, the tattoo above his brow wrinkling at his renewed concern. Ayaka could only agree and leap onto the ceramic-tiled roof with the male in tow, heading in the direction of the clash.

By the time they arrived, everything had settled down considerably. Renji lay on the ground in tatters, hardly even breathing, and Ayaka panicked at his state of being. She came to kneel at his side and rolled him onto his back. Carefully, she picked up the pale scarf that lay draped over him and tossed it aside. The tattooed man groaned to himself, and, sporadically, Rikichi ran off promising his return to the frazzled Tachibana.

The woman sat down cross-legged at Renji's side and attempted to communicate with him. It was stupid; she held his hand, told him to “squeeze if you can hear me.” At the lack of response, she held one of his eyes open, and he grunted, making an attempt at wrenching away (which in reality was only just a slight movement).

“Okay, “ she breathed, brow crinkling. With ginger movements, she peeled away the remnants of the fur that covered his shoulder and one arm, grimacing at how much blood clung to it, and tucked his hair out of his face.

During the seemingly-eternal wait for Rikichi to return, Ayaka sighed and settled with the unconscious man's head in her lap, legs stretched out before her as she gazed up at Sōkyoku hill. Though he wasn't very aware of anything going on about him, she figured why not make things a little more comfortable; the damaged tiles were cold and bumpy and didn't help the full-body ache he was probably feeling about then.

Any sort of comfort was probably nice, even if it were just a leg for a cushion.

Ayaka felt as though she'd aged some by the time footsteps finally echoed from the far stairway, signalling Rikichi's return. “What took you so long?” she asked distractedly, glancing down as she moved her hand from where she'd absently rested it, against Renji's tattooed widow's peak.

Glancing up at the silhouette that moved steadily nearer, she realised it wasn't the Sixth Divisioner. At that, she bristled, hand darting to the hilt of her Mizushita.

“I am sorry I am not who you are expecting, “ a soft voice carried over the air. Ayaka's eyes widened in recognition. “but I will help out Lieutenant Abarai.” As that figure moved nearer, a hint of colour tinged the young woman's cheeks. Retsu became a clear image, walking over with dainty ease and a pleasant look upon her features. The woman was an idol to female population of Seireitei and then some; Ayaka had viewed her ikebana exhibitions a few times in the past, and was completely amazed at her ability.

Gingerly moving away from the red-haired shinigami, she bowed her head, “My apologies, Captain Unohana.” The woman simply smiled and set to work patching Renji up. She requested Ayaka's help in getting him to and holding him in a sitting position.

The Fourth captain worked diligently, dabbing the innumerable oozing wounds with antiseptic and wrapping bandages about the man's torso. Retsu made idle conversation, asking how Ayaka was fairing as Byakuya's right hand and, in between topics, asked the younger shinigami for small favours. Hold a bandage here, remove the cap from this ointment, or adjust Renji however much; Ayaka was happy to oblige.

Once she finished up, Retsu rose from her kneeling position and flashed another smile as she turned to retrace her steps. Ayaka blinked, _“Is that really it?”_ The reality of Retsu simply arriving to patch up the fallen Abarai and not something more... lawful, unsettled her slightly. She brushed off the curious notion, however as the elegant woman wished both her and Renji well before disappearing down the steps once more.

 

By the time Rikichi _actually_ returned, with Hanatarō trailing close behind, the ravenette was nearly asleep. Again, she had Abarai's head resting in her lap, legs outstretched as she leaned her weight back on her arms. Mizushita lay at her side and a dry breeze swept through the long, damaged clearing.

“Tachibana, “ Rikichi called, brows raising slightly as he watched the unmoving figures a ways away. He and his friend ceased their running, coming to stand somewhat breathless near the two on the ground.

Ayaka opened her eyes, having to blink a few times before adjusting. “Ah, you're finally back.” she hummed, gaze settling on a meek Hanatarō. He smiled shyly, which she returned in-hand. “Weren't you with Ichigo, Hana?” The puzzled question tumbled past her lips before she could even think about it, gingerly shifting away to allow the seventh seat to begin using healing kidō on Renji.

Hanatarō laughed rather nervously, “I-I was, but I kind of got put in jail...” He shifted to sit on his folded legs, a blue aura emanating from his hands, placed over Renji. He cringed as Ayaka deadpanned next to him, confusion seeping into her expression slowly.

Brows drawing together, she glanced between Rikichi and Hanatarō, before shooting an exasperated look at the former. “I'm not even going to ask what you did.” she declared quietly. Rikichi held up his hands in defence, a look of slight terror overcoming his features as he pushed out a breath.

“I was doing it for the sake of Lieutenant Abarai!” he spoke with a waver to his tone.

Ayaka smiled slightly. “I never said I was angry at you, Rikichi. I'm just... surprised you'd do such a thing, busting Hana out of jail, ” she teased, easing up as the shinigami noticeably eased. She knew all too well of the lawful aesthetic of Division Six's members, being stuck in the midst of it herself. The occurrence was... different, at the very least.

A few minutes of silence hung on the air, and eventually Renji shifted, brow furrowing as earthy eyes opened against the mid-morning light. “Am I alive...?” he asked drowsily, before startling slightly at his own appearance. Bandages covered his upper body entirely and his person was free of stray bloodstains – though everything _ached_. His gaze flicked to the healer hovering over him.

“H-Hello...” Hanatarō greeted quietly, gaze unwavering from the redhead's.

“Why are you tending to me?” Renji's voice sounded gravelly, and he cleared his throat with a slight wince.

Rikichi took a hesitant step nearer, “I brought him here.”

Befuddled, Renji examined those around him. Ayaka, Rikichi, and the healer. “Rikichi, you...!” he began, tone ragged, before ceasing.

“Hanatarō was captured trying to save Rukia, so I thought he would help you with your injury.” Rikichi explained quickly, gesturing to his friend whose attention occasionally wavered from the blue energy that enveloped Renji's being, to the man's face.

“He waited for a chance to unlock the cell.” the meek male added on, smiling slightly as Renji eased somewhat. From her spot not too far off, Ayaka nodded in understanding. She had a much more dramatic endeavour in mind for Hanatarō's escape, considering the more violent jailbreak methods of the late.

Sighing rather painfully, the lieutenant shut his eyes, “I see. Thanks.” Though his gratitude was curt, Hanatarō nodded happily. A rare smile tugged his lips.

“Oh, no... Actually, “ the male spoke up once more, brow creasing somewhat. “Someone had tended to your wound before I came. The only one who could have done this...”

Ayaka hummed, smiling faintly, “Unohana. She came while I was waiting for you two.” Renji noticeably stiffened where he lay, clearly a little thrown-off at the fact that a captain had come through and not done anything to reprimand him or Ayaka, who had apparently remained with him for a variable amount of time.

“Lieutenant Abarai!” Hanatarō's tone faltered in the slightest, “Please don't give up! Ichigo will save Rukia, so...”

At the mention, Ayaka went a little rigid herself, brow knitting once more. Thoughts of the teen filled her mind and her gaze found its way to the distant Senzaikyū, worry eating at her mind as Rikichi began on an impassioned tangent regarding Renji and how he looked up to him.

“No matter what happens, I want you to live! And I want you to be cool and fight for what you believe in!” The male finished, a look of determination settling over his features.

“Rikichi...” Renji murmured faintly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for any inconsistency in things (feel free to point out errors if you find 'em), but man I had a hard time working things out to where they made sense while still holding to canon chronology and stuff. It's a little all over the place, but I hope it wasn't too terrible, hahah.

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to dip my feet back into the Bleach pool; I'm giving this fanfiction thing a go again. So far, it's been decent, lmao. Forgive me for the patchiness in detail or anything, it's been a very long while since I've sat down and written.
> 
> Also, this is being posted on FFN as well as here!


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